


And it's not even Friday

by msraven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bodyswap, Imagine your OTP, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil wake up one morning and find out they have swapped bodies!</p>
            </blockquote>





	And it's not even Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [imagineyourotp](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/48069466387/imagine-your-otp-waking-up-one-morning-and-finding) post.

Clint wakes up in an unfamiliar bed which is, admittedly, not that uncommon, but he clearly remembers not getting drunk last night and falling asleep very much alone in his bed. He takes stock of his surroundings and is relieved to note that he’s still alone, just not in his room. The sheets don’t feel the same, the mattress is a tad too soft, and the light in the room isn’t right for this time of the morning. Clint shifts experimentally, which is when he figures out that something very, very wrong. 

His _body_ doesn’t feel right and Clint bolts up to a sitting position, looking down at hands that are not his, but he recognizes instantly. Clint flexes his muscles and watches in fascination as Coulson’s hands and forearms move in front of him. He gently runs the fingers along his sternum and feels the raised scar tissue underneath the soft material of the t-shirt he’s suddenly wearing.

_Holy shit, he’s in Coulson’s body!_

Clint jumps out of the bed, thankful that Coulson is close enough to his body size and fitness level that he doesn’t end up sprawled on the floor. He starts to stride out of the room, but pauses when he catches his reflection in the mirror. It’s strange to see things from Coulson’s eyes - everything a little fuzzier around the edges without the genetic gift of Clint’s super-sharp vision. 

He steps closer to the mirror and starts to reach toward its surface, but aborts the motion and moves his fingers towards the familiar face he’s now wearing instead, feeling the scratch of the stubble along his jaw. Coulson’s face under Clint’s control is softer, almost gentle, and it makes the archer smile and then gasp in reaction.

 _That’s what love would look like on Phil’s face_ , Clint’s mind supplies.

Unable to stop himself, Clint pulls off Coulson’s t-shirt and throws it on the bed, finally getting a glimpse of what his handler typically keeps under wraps. He’s not prepared for the sight of the large scar marring Phil’s otherwise gorgeous chest. Clint closes his eyes, fingers unconsciously trailing up and down the scar, and tries not to think of how close they came to losing Phil for good.

“Clint?” asks a quiet voice and Clint opens his eyes to find his own face staring, wide-eyed back at him through the mirror.

“Phil?” Clint asks in return before realizing that he’s been caught standing in front of the mirror and fondling Phil’s chest. He hastily pulls the shirt back on and strides past himself without meeting his eyes. “We need to find Thor.”

Thor tells them that the spell will last three sunrises and that there is nothing else to be done but wait it out. Nobody but Clint and Phil are affected. Thor tells them that it’s likely one of his relatives from Asgard is to blame, but that the spell is not intended to cause harm. The god is thankfully vague about the rest of the details, sending apologetic glances at Clint throughout his explanation. It will hopefully stay a well-kept secret between Clint and Thor that the spell is likely a result of Clint’s moping the night before. Phil had been out on a date and Clint was feeling just depressed enough that he’d bemoaned his own lack of a love life to Thor, never imagining the outcome.

Everyone files out of the living room, leaving Phil and Clint alone in awkward silence. Clint’s face is carefully blank in a way that the archer is fairly sure he couldn’t duplicate once he was back in his own body. He starts to rub the back of neck, but it pulls at the scar on Phil’s chest and the sensation makes Clint drop his hand.

“Um...about earlier,” Clint says, the hesitation sounding odd in Phil’s voice. “I’m sorry about that. I mean, three days. I assume you’ll want me to shower and stuff, but I...uh...promise I won’t do anything inappropriate.”

Clint grimaces and watches as an expression he doesn’t know how to read flashes across his face before Phil looks up and responds evenly. “Thank you. Likewise.”

Clint looks away, unsure what Phil’s face is conveying right now. Of course Phil wouldn’t do anything inappropriate with Clint’s body, that was the whole problem.

“Right. Thanks. I’m just gonna...uh...go to my room. My own room,” Clint stutters out and flees. 

Clint spends the next three days holed up in his room doing as little as absolutely possible. He mostly sits on his couch and watches movies, the temptation to experiment with the differences in Phil’s body too great if he attempts more. Eating proves the most difficult because Clint will swear everything tastes slightly sweeter and inadvertently spends half an hour savoring the taste of a chocolate bar.

Thor tracks him down once, insisting that the spell is meant only for those who seek their one true love, that the three days are meant to give the lovers a chance to find one another across whatever distance separates them. Clint begs Thor to drop it because he knows the truth regardless of what the spell seems to have done. Through all the years that Phil and Clint have known each other, with everything that they’ve been through together, and as close a friends as they’ve become, Phil has never, not once, ever shown any romantic or physical interest in Clint. There is no reason why this swap, of all things, would suddenly be the catalyst for something more.

Clint makes it through until the last night in Phil’s body before he can no longer fight his own desires. He’d been so good up until then, keeping showers as short as possible and making a concerted effort not to look in the mirror or down at Phil’s body as he dressed. It’s his last and only chance, Clint reasons as he strips and stands in front of the full length mirror - the spell should wear off at sunrise the next morning.

Phil’s body, as Clint has always suspected, is beautiful. He is well-muscled and trim, with a light dusting of hair across his chest and down his legs. There are a multitude of scars scattered throughout Phil’s body that only helps to accentuate his rugged masculinity and Clint catalogs them all before closing his eyes and letting himself touch. He starts by running a hand from Phil’s shoulder, down over his chiseled biceps to his fingertips and then repeating the action with the other arm. His heartbeat quickens as he places both hands on Phil’s chest, fingers meeting just over the jagged scar. Clint imagines it’s his own hands trailing a smooth caress down Phil’s chest and stomach before they still on his lower belly. 

Clint lets out a sigh and drops his hands. He can’t violate Phil’s trust this way, no matter how much his fingers itch for more.

“Wait,” says a rough voice and Clint opens his eyes in shock. Phil, still within Clint’s body, is now standing between him and the mirror and Clint curses himself for losing track of his surroundings.

“I wasn’t going to --” Clint starts to defend himself.

“I know!” Phil responds quickly, cutting him off and starting to reach toward him before grimacing and dropping his hand. Clint watches as his face contorts in disgust. “This is just so fucking weird.”

“I’m sorry,” Clint apologizes, suddenly tired. He turns and walks back to where he’d dropped his clothes, quickly pulling on a pair of sweats. “This will all be over in the morning and we can forget about it.”

“No,” Phil says forcefully, the inflection a hundred percent Coulson even though the voice is Clint’s.

Clint drops his head, gripping his shirt tightly with Phil’s hands. “I’ll ask Fury for a transfer out in the morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know I broke my promise,” Clint continues without turning around. “I’m sorry. I just. If you don’t want to keep working with me, I understand.”

“Fuck,” Phil says and the curse sounds perfectly normal coming from Clint’s lips. “I really wish we could have waited to have this conversation in the morning.”

That statement makes Clint look over his shoulder in confusion. “Why _are_ you here?” As far as Clint knew, Phil hadn’t left his room any more than Clint had over the past few days.

“Because I broke my promise too.”

Clint spins fully around and starts to take a step forward, and then his mind reminds him that he was about to try and kiss himself and yeah, this is all kinds of weird. “You’re right,” he says. “This is too fucking weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Phil mutters and Clint can’t help letting out a small chuckle at how strange it feels to be having a conversation with himself. “Can we just get some sleep and talk about this in the morning?”

Clint nods Phil’s head and is surprised when Phil - Clint...whatever - takes a step toward him instead of walking out of the room.

“Is this okay?” Phil asks with beseeching eyes and damn, Clint has to try that when he’s back in his body because those puppy dog eyes are lethal. 

Clint nods again and they awkwardly get into the bed. It’s still strange as fuck to wrap Phil’s arms around himself, but Clint finds it much easier once they’ve turned off the lights and tries not to think too hard about it. 

“Why now?” Clint asks into the darkness. “We’ve had plenty of opportunities in the past.”

“Because I’m a coward,” Phil replies with a sigh. “Because there’s always been so much more to this, to us, than just pure attraction and that’s scarier than any god with a spear. I didn’t want to admit how I felt, so I told myself that there was no way you could reciprocate. But seeing how you looked at _me_ , even if it was your mind inside my body, the other morning was...undeniable.”

Clint tightens his arms. “You’re pretty fucking hot, sir.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Phil replies, clearly amused.

“I _know_ so, especially now,” Clint insists and then sighs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Likewise,” Phil says with enough frustration in voice to placate Clint. “But I really don’t want our first kiss to be that awkward, do you?”

“No,” Clint agrees. “Better in the morning.”

It is better in the morning and they each take a moment to re-familiarize themselves with their own bodies before turning toward each other. 

If Thor’s smile is a little smug when he catches them both emerging from Clint’s room much later that morning, they really can’t argue.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> In case you are not already aware, there is a group doing an amazing [AO3 Auction](http://ao3auction.tumblr.com/FAQ) on tumblr to raise funds for the OTW. AO3 is a project of the OTW, so please think about making a bid on an author if you can. It's for a good cause. There is a wealth of amazing authors on the list, so you can't go wrong. Happy bidding.


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